Dreams in the Night
by TheButterflyComposer
Summary: "You know, to be honest I only came here to see how well you did," she said in a small voice. "Hmm. To share a little secret..." I leaned in closer, our foreheads were touching now, "...I was thinking the exact same thing" When Harry meets Hermiome, a friend from his past, the only thing he can say for certain was that this was going to be a night to remember.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. The laws says it belongs to J. .**

Chapter One

_'This was a terrible idea'_

I thought to myself as a entered the large wooden building that contained the early OWL results day.

Apparently, some genius had decided to make it a trade fair too, as the stalls and bustling market indicated.

Crap, Sirius is probably laughing at me down there in hell.

I shut off thoughts of my godfather and steeled myself for the press.

Thankfully, in most countries I was a foot note in history.

I was grateful for that, as it meant that the smear campaign the Ministry had been writing around me the past few months had been ignored by the vast majority of the people here.

What did get their attention was me fighting Voldemort...again.

The various flashbulbs inevitably went off as I answered in auto-pilot.

My general dislike for the mass media was noticed almost immediately.

The press from these other countries seemed to have manners at least, and withdrew back to carry on photographing the world's finest young minds.

* * *

It was just before the line up for the slips that contained our results when I saw her.

It had been...how long had it been?

Five years, six months and four days.

It was a long time and yet...

I recognised her.

A few seconds later, she recognised me.

"Good evening," I said, flinching at the sound of my own voice.

It was far too cold for a greeting.

"Hello Harry," she said softly.

Her voice had lost the English accent. It was clinically correct now, as if she had never really used it in a while but had striven to perfect it none the less.

She was still Hermione then.

"Sorry," I blurted out, "It's just a little bit of a shock to see you, even when I had stolen the register that said you were coming."

Her eyes flickered and her mouth curled upwards in amusement.

"Hmm, are you ever going to start trusting anyone, Harry?"

"Probably not..."

There were noises all around from people moving about and talking, but nothing penetrated our little bubble of silence.

"It is good to see you," I said at last.

The years had been good to her. Her tan had darkened a little and she had reached an impressive height. She had a sleek pair of arms that were toned with the slight edges of muscle. I couldn't see any scars on her and I flinched when I realised that she was probably wondering about mine.

"I wish I could say the same Harry," she was using her quiet voice, her way of trying not to cry, "what happened to you? You look like you' been dragged through the past five years on your face? What happened with..."

"Voldemort?" I asked after five seconds.

She nodded.

"Well, that's a long story. How much do you know already?" I asked.

"Only as much as is in the history books," she answered.

I was angry for a second. She knew about me being in the magical world and yet she hadn't tried to contact me...

The feeling was crushed by guilt.

I ran away, it was hardly her fault for not chasing after me.

"After I ran away...what did you do?" I asked, genuinely curious but also shame faced.

"It was horrible Harry," she said, not quite outright screaming at me but I could see the sentiment and hear the hurt in her voice.

_"I thought you had died._ I thought that they had..." She tapered off and I raised my hand. I was suddenly uncertain as to what to do.

My hand found her shoulder and she stopped looking down.

"I was so angry when it came out that you had run away. Angry at the Dursleys, angry at you for leaving me...hurt that you didn't come to me for help first. And then the magical offers came through for several magic schools and it was killing me.

What if you came back and I wasn't there? My parents took control a few weeks later. You remember how we were planning on moving anyway..." Hermione stopped again.

I nodded, stupefied by her reactions. She was never one for sobbing and was in my opinion, the strongest person I had ever known.

I hated myself for being the cause of her pain, no matter how long ago it had been.

"Then...then I left for Beauxbatons. I found out about your...story in the first week. I'm so sorry, Harry," she said, her voice failing her at random intervals now.

"Thank you," I said simply. My parents death had been buried in my soul for a long time now. I was simply glad she acknowledge the loss.

She smiled weakly and looked up for the first time in several minutes.

"I was wondering if you knew yourself, whether you had been found and brought into the Wizarding world.

I...I didn't know whether to write.

I wasn't sure whether the owl could find you and...," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me."

I hugged her then.

It was the only thing I could do in good conscious. I didn't trust myself to speak and explain how I felt properly... and I wasn't going to run from her again.

"You know, to be honest I only came here to see how well you did," she said with a small voice into my chest.

"Hmm. To share a little secret..."

I leaned in closer, our foreheads were touching now, "...I was thinking the exact same thing"

We both laughed at that.

Suddenly she dragged me into the queuing line.

"I shall be most interested to see your results, Mr Potter," she said in an incredible imitation of Minerva McGonnagal.

I told her so, and she laughed.

McGonnagal was a legend in life when it came to the teaching world, even in France.

* * *

I barely gave my slip a glance and don't even unfold it.

Hermione was driving me through the stalls and the markets, seeing and doing everything at once.

Suddenly I tugged back, sending us both spinning around each other.

We began dancing.

Dancing! In family good time with the music flowing through the air too.

I spotted Luna as we were running through the place again, two teenagers suddenly ten again. The little blonde girl raised her eyebrows and turned her sightless eyes towards me as we went past.

"Shut up," I murmured, in Luna's direction.

"What?," she said?

"She's internally questioning my sanity...raising her eyebrows at me smiling."

We talked as such for what seemed like years. I was turning back from a stall selling all kinds of rare books when I spotted her sitting on a step, already reading through her selection.

Our eyes met and suddenly, we knew we needed to talk about less pleasant things.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"I should have known that if I was magic, you were going to be. You always were..."

She always was what?

As I really about to say that I thought she was magical?

Where had I got this gushiness from?

I felt my cheeks...I was blushing?

When was the last time that had happened?

Hermione was distracted however, biting her lip indicating that she was extremely concerned about something.

I tried to pull her back into reality.

"I see you came prepared," I observed, looking at her wooly hat and gloves, her winter coat and her scarf.

"See you haven't," she said, not quite coming out of her thoughts.

I indeed had not come prepared for any long stay in the outdoor weather. That she had insisted on wandering through a frosty garden for forty minutes was, I think, her punishment for me. 'Always come prepared' was something we agreed to, so long ago when we thought the world would always be predictable.

"It's a rather beautiful picture isn't it?" I asked, in reference to the window next to me showing us a view of frozen forests and the river.

"Picture? Silly you, this is the real world," her reply hit me with a pang.

She had said the very same hing twelve years ago when I had confused a picture book with the view outside.

Sometimes I loved that see remembered as much as me, before I hen thought of how painful viewing some of those memories must have been for her.

The times when either of us had been bullied, the times when the Durselys had been especially cruel.

I don't think I told even her about the cupboard...or the occasional beatings.

But she knew enough to worry.

"So how did you do?" she asked me.

I glanced at her, confused for a second before I remembered my secondary reason for coming here.

"Oh right...I don't know. I haven't looked," I admitted, feeling a little foolish at not doing so.

"I would be cross at your lack of excitement, but to be fair to you, I haven't looked at mine either."

"No?"

"No."

"I would have thought you at least would be interested in your results."

"I am interested, just not in _my_ results," she said.

"Swap then?" I offered, thinking that it would be nice to see some good marks before looking at my own.

Her marks were good.

Very good.

Annoyingly good.

"I can safely say that you have passed, Miss Granger," I said with a straight face, passing her marks back.

She ignored the outstretched hand and plunged into a close hug.

"You did brilliantly, Harry."

"In all fairness, probably not as good as-"

"No," she interrupted, "If I did anything close to what you did, I'll be happy."

"Hmm, you are going to be very happy then," I said, muffled slightly by her scarf.

Our results turned out to be almost identical.

* * *

We were strolling outside when the event began to wind down.

I wasn't looking forward to leaving and I doubted she was either.

"So are you walking or..."

I saw the look on her face. Being so cavalier about leaving now after everything we'd done today was an insult.

"Sorry. I just-"

"You found it too easy to leave."

Her accusation hung in the air.

"You always find it too easy to leave."

"I spent five years looking for you, you know," I said, not meeting her gaze.

"And I was waiting long before then for you to show more than one smile on your face. Not just that one you wore when we were playing, but a sweet smile, a happy smile. Every time you used to smile you looked so sad."

"I tried...

"You remember that teacher we had in nursery?" Hermione said, not letting up, "You let her hold your hand, but that was it. Everyone else got a hug, for some reason you never-"

"You were the first."

Silence.

"You were the first person who hugged me. I think...you might have been the first to make me smile too."

"Oh..."

"I won't say that today was a mistake'" I said in a voice that sounded otherwise. "I enjoyed seeing you again. It was the best Christmas I've ever had."

"Harry, stop-"

"No...no, I still see you as my friend, my confidant, the only family...the only family I've ever had. But I'm not going to hurt you again. I can barely live with myself already. So if this is it...I will walk away. I wish you the best.

Go back to your life. Mine is...as you say, sad."

I don't know how long we spent facing each other. I was freezing by now.

The only sign from her about the weather was the tinged red nose. I wasn't sure the cold was responsible for her moist eyes.

There didn't seem to be anything more to say.

* * *

I don't clearly remember who turned away first.

I like to think neither of us did.

I have a horrible feeling that I gave up first though, and left my friend staring into the darkness.

I don't know what she was thinking, but I was lost in memories of today. I tried to throw away the images of her smile, her prepared pocket full of gloves and hats. It was futile however.

* * *

She was still my Hermione.

And I was her Harry.


	2. Before- Harry's point of view

**Disclaimer: I hold no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and these characters were and are the property of J. **

Before- Harry's POV

I was alone.

That was the truth of the matter.

Sirius lay dead in an arch that led to nowhere.

Dumbledore had returned only to throw another weight on me.

I was marked for death.

In some ways, it was a relief to know that my miserable little story would have an end sooner rather than later.

The others, those foolish brave people who followed me without cause to London were just now waking up.

Ginny was dead. In all manner of ways, I was responsible. How could I have let her go? She was never ready, never ready...

Ron was comatose, those brains had overloaded his own.

Neville was here...sort of. He wouldn't admit it, but the torture curse had broken him in some way. He spent his days wandering around his old gardens, seeing with unseeing eyes his once beloved plants.

Luna was alright.

She had lost her eyes, but was somehow seeing perfectly. Some people, I guess, can just do anything.

**I **was beaten.

That was the real problem.

I was never one for giving in: the Basilisk didn't break me, even when I was dying I still somehow fought Voldemort. The tournament was never a concern, by that point, very little scared me at all. Voldemort afterwards did, but I was relieved in a way for the journey that was always going this way to end.

It didn't of course my life would've only been tragic if it had.

No, this year never bloody ends.

I've spent four months back at the castle and every day has been hell.

Dumbledore abandons me, the wizarding world hates me and now they have the balls to tell me what to do.

_Fuck them._

I will fight him to defend myself, and anyone in my sight.

But I am not going to save them from their own mess.

Dumbledore is at least eighty years old and swiftly kicked Voldie's arse.

He can kill the bastard.

Screw the prophecy and screw them.

Love?

I don't even know what that is.

I've never seen it in my despicable abusive relatives.

I don't see it in the streets I ran away to, that day before third year.

Tom was decent enough. But I couldn't stay there, the Ministry and Dumbledore wanted me on a tight leash.

So I escaped.

It wasn't easy though. Every year at Hogwarts, that infernal old bastard tried to break my head finding where I was staying over summer. It helped that I didn't know myself.

When Sirius started staying in the shabby old house, it was a relief to both of us. I spent a few weeks here during the summer.

I learnt a lot from the library. Aspiration, the unforgivable curses, all sorts of things.

I even learnt the fiendfyre spell that I'll use to torch this place...

* * *

Dumbledore doesn't know it was me who did that, of course.

He is still under the impression that I am quote unquote weak and useless, as if anyone who was half as smart as me wouldn't try to learn everything they could about magic I the time that they had.

For me, the fact that I had been attacked three years in a row led me to spending my fourth year preparing for it again. The tournament was child's play- though the difficult part was trying not to show how developed I had become.

I got into trouble regarding the Yule Ball. For some reason they elected me to go along with a tradition I knew nothing of before and didn't care about now.

Morons.

* * *

I'm in a temporary residence at the moment. At least I hope it's temporary. I hadn't seen my aunt and uncle's place since I ran away. I had ran before, but that led to the disaster of magic.

They are out over Christmas. Morocco or some such place.

I don't really care.

This owl that I got however, intrigues me.

I filed for early exams with the OWL board because I wasn't sure how much longer I could take Umbridge without murdering her on the castle steps.

I have always been good at my subjects, and have even made top of the year for the past two.

I enjoyed the challenge of revising four years worth of stuff along with the extra fifth year spells. I'm not sure how well I've done to be honest.

That's what the owl was about by the way.

For some reason, the wizarding world congregates the early takers together. The results day is going to be held outside of Tara in Ireland.

I can only presume that the ICW wants the best and brightest to mill around and stare at each other as they finish the major half of their education.

In another life, I might care.

As it is, I'm going to have to go out of my way...and past the press, the Ministry and Dumbledore, to get my marks.

The world is fucking cruel to me.

* * *

I'm in the Ministry of Magic, riffling through our esteemed, and soon to be sacked, High Inquisitor's drawers. The Ministry encompasses Ireland too, and so they have a guest list of everyone who is coming into the country. They thankfully do not organise the event,must keep the records.

Hmm...there are a lot of A's in the Wizarding world.

If only they left the marks lying around so easily available.

I need those grades. Then I can quit Hogwarts and chase the sun as it were. Maybe go to a proper school and work towards a Masters degree?

OWLs, as I understood them, were a mix between GCSE's and A levels. They were converted into A Levels if you were in the real world, I know because I asked the Muggle studies teacher last year.

* * *

A name.

Before anything else happened, I saw her name there.

I wasn't expecting it, but it felt like I knew she would be on the list.

Shock, at what I had just thought flooded through me.

I never knew that she was a witch.

It felt right though, that she was.

Not just that, but she had excelled here as she had done there.

_Hermione Jean Granger, 16._

It was almost certainly her. I doubt anyone else in the world carried such a name in this day and age.

_A memory:_

_Ribbons and sunshine. _

_Damn it, I'm not going down that rabbit hole again!_

I hadn't thought about it in a long time.

Never had quite managed to forget either.

My past beckoned to my present.

The question now was, what do I do next?


End file.
